by Debra Samms
"And a husband, too, I hope," Delilah sighed, sitting down on the bunk. "I do hope we all get all of those things . . . and that this journey will not prove to be in vain."
***
On a cool fresh morning in the middle of February, Captain Carver of the Sea Spirit ordered his five passengers to cook up some extra food on the brick furnace. "When you're done with that, take what you'll need for the next three days. Leave the rest. Then go below decks and stay there."
They all looked at him in silence. Maeve could feel the dread that was coming over even these very brave women – a dread that she felt herself. "Aye, Captain," she said, and turned back to the others. "You heard the man. Let's fire up some more biscuits and get below. It's time."
Within a couple of hours, their work was done and all the women were safely below on their pallet, surrounded by their trunks and bags. "How long will it take to get round the Horn?" asked Eulalie.
"Can't say for sure," said Maeve. "Some of the men say five days. The captain says three days, on account of it being late summer down here at this end of the world."
"Then it's true what they say," said Hattie, sounding relieved. "Maybe it won't be so bad after all."
"We'll just have to be ready for anything," answered Maeve. "We should probably sleep while we can. We'll be into the Straits of Magellan by early tomorrow."
***
Maeve was suddenly thrown awake when the Sea Spirit took a sudden hard lurch to port. The rest of the women grabbed for the sides of the hold and for each other. "What's happening?" yelled Hattie, trying her best to get to her feet.
"The Straits," said Maeve. "It's started. Sit down before you fall down!"
The women all huddled together. The wild rocking and pounding of the ship went on all night, and even though seasickness occasionally set in again the passage was not as bad as any of them had feared. "If it doesn't get any worse than this, we'll count ourselves lucky and say no more about it," said Maeve.
"If you can call this lucky," whispered Ruby, feeling very sick again.
But they all rode it out well enough for another day, with the men mostly staying topside and only coming down to their narrow bunks in the stern when they absolutely had to get a little sleep.
Then, in the middle of the afternoon, after getting through nearly two days of rough water and being closed up in the hold, the ship suddenly bucked violently and seemed to spin halfway around. The women could not help but grab onto each other. "Now what?" yelled Ruby. "Whirlpool?"
"Could be," said Maeve. "Just hold on to something. I think they've got her headed the right way again. We'll have to – "
There was a sudden pounding at the door leading to the steps of the hold. Then a man yanked it open and Maeve saw that it was Arthur, Captain Carver's first mate.
"Come up now," he said, gasping for breath. "All of you. Captain's orders."
The women looked at each other, and then got to their feet. "Come on, girls," said Maeve, as calmly as she could. "Maybe somebody needs a biscuit."
The five women made their way up to the top deck, stumbling and staggering and holding on to the walls and the railing and each other as they went. They blinked in the grey light of the cloudy sky, and then suddenly shrank back when they saw what was happening with the center mast.
In the crowd of yelling, shouting sailors, broken ropes snapped in the high winds and the entire sail rigging swung drunkenly as the ship lurched out of control. "You! You women!" bawled Captain Carver. "Go with Arthur to the wheel. Keep her on course. I need every hand to fix this rigging!"
There was no time to ask questions or to argue. Maeve and Jemima grabbed the other three and they all followed Arthur to the ship's wheel, which was connected to the keel and would keep the ship heading in the right direction through the treacherous rocks and powerful currents – if they could force the wheel where it had to go.
"All of you, stand beside me," yelled Arthur, grabbing the wheel at the top center. "She's fighting hard against this wind and current. You'll have to help pull her where she needs to go. I'll tell you how far and which way. Now! Help me pull!"
The five of them followed Arthur's lead, helping him pull the very heavy wheel to turn the keel and keep the ship on course. Back and forth they moved the wheel, using their combined strength and Arthur's knowledge to guide the ship through the Straits. The only sounds were Arthur's commands, the howling wind, and the shouting and cursing of the men behind and above them as they struggled to repair the sails on the center mast.
Then, just when Maeve thought it would never stop, the wind eased. The ship seemed to settle and ease through the water at a more normal, steady pace. Maeve looked up to see that the rocks alongside them were ending and they were leaving the Straits of Magellan.
The women all stepped back, catching their breath and rubbing their blistered hands on their worn skirts. Arthur continued at the wheel with no trouble, and there was a loud popping sound from up above them as the re-rigged sails caught the wind and pushed the ship forward once again.
And with that, just as the sun began to set, the Sea Spirit made her way into the calm and beautiful waters of the Pacific Ocean and turned her heading to the north.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On a gray March morning in downtown Manchester, New Hampshire, there was a parade of sorts coming down the sidewalk.
Heads turned, and some men stopped to stand and frankly stare, as a group of some forty young women – all dressed in their shopworn and second-hand best – got off of the trolley cars and started on their way to Union Station.
Clara Emilia Kingston, who always described herself as a brunette of both average height and looks, walked at the head of the group beside her friend Susannah. At the station, they all boarded what would be the first of several railroad trains that would take them all the way across the continent – all the way to San Francisco – over the next eight weeks.
Once the train departed, and the novelty of the ride began to wear off, they found that there was plenty of time for talking. And it was not surprising that the main topic of conversation was the men they hoped to marry and the life they hoped to have out in Sawyerville.
"I'm not too particular," said Susannah, laughing. "Just a decent man who will come in and wash up for supper each night, so that I will have a home – and so will he."
"Oh, I think I want more than that," said Clara, gazing out of the window at the lengthening shadows on the snow and at the delicate blue-and-pink sky. "I want those things too, Susannah, but I also want – " She stopped, and giggled. "You'll just laugh if I tell you."
"No, I won't! Tell me. What is it?"
"I want – I want a man who will talk to me," said Clara.
Susannah did laugh, but quickly explained. "I suppose I didn't expect you to say that!"
Clara smiled. "I'm serious," she said. "I want someone who will listen to my hopes and dreams, and then he can tell me about his. On fine nights, after supper, we can sit out in the Oregon moonlight and just talk. How wonderful that's going to be!"
Susannah just smiled at her. "I hope so, Clara. I hope it's all you ever dreamed of."
***
After the sheer terror of rounding Cape Horn, the five women on board the Sea Spirit found that they were actually quite relieved to return to the boredom and tedium of the long, long days and nights of sailing. Now they were headed north, and as long as they were careful with their supplies of food and fresh water the conditions were not too bad. The temperatures held steady and mild, and none of the men came near them again – though all of the women kept their weapons close at all times and never went anywhere on the ship alone.
Captain Carver stopped three more times along the way for supplies: Once in Chile and twice in Peru. These were very welcome breaks in their journey, and for at least a short time after putting in at one of the ports the food and water were better on board the ship. There was usually plenty of cornmeal to be bargained for, along with potatoes, suga
r, and molasses.
But best of all were the fresh fruits and vegetables to be had in the dockside markets: limes, avocados, mangoes, guavas, papayas, and even cactus fruits. The fresh food did not last too long, but the thought of the next stop was enough to keep them going.
The sea was relatively calm – "That's why they call it the Pacific," mentioned Captain Carver – and as the weeks went by, the five women actually began to think about their coming arrival in San Francisco.
And after that, in Sawyerville.
***
On a fair day in the middle of March, after making its way over the Atlantic Ocean for some four weeks, the steamship SS Michigan put in at Colón, Panama. All ten of the women disembarked and gratefully stepped down to solid ground once more.
It was only a short walk to the railroad station, where a train would take them across the slender isthmus to the opposite coast less than fifty miles away. The walk to the train was heavenly, Delilah thought, although she felt a little unsteady at times and noticed that some of the other girls did, too. She kept expecting the land to pitch and roll the way the ship sometimes did, where they had all learned to adjust their balance until it was a habit to do so. "Sea legs," the captain had called it, laughing at them as he walked past the group.
But now Delilah found herself seated among the other women on the train, greatly enjoying the sight of lush green jungle trees and flowers going past. Once on board their next ship there would be nothing to see but ocean and a distant rocky coast again for another six weeks, and Delilah knew she'd best enjoy the sight of earth and trees while she could.
With the excitement and the conversation and the novelty of the view, the railroad trip went very quickly. Soon their train was pulling into the station in Balboa, Panama, and the girls got their first view of the vast blue Pacific Ocean.
They were allowed an hour to walk along the docks and buy food from the vendors, and so they all enjoyed fresh-made chicken and vegetable tamales in fresh corn dough, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed hot.
The hour passed, and then they were all lining up with their bags and trunks to begin boarding for the next leg of their journey. Waiting for them was another steamship, the SS Baja California, which would take them north along the coastlines. This ship was nearly as large as the Michigan and reasonably comfortable, and the forty young women were soon settled in and ready for the six weeks it would take to get them from Balboa, Panama, to San Francisco, California.
Now that they had gone through what seemed like the most difficult part of their journey, the ten women on board the Baja California found themselves feeling a bit more relaxed and willing to think about the future as something that might actually happen. It seemed as though it was finally safe to talk about the kind of man they hoped to find as a husband, and about the sort of life they wanted for themselves out in Sawyerville.
One fine afternoon, Delilah sat up on the deck with the nine other girls. They sat in a half circle on chairs and crates, enjoying the sunlight and the fresh breeze as the two great paddlewheels drove the ship along. Among a great deal of laughing and giggling and blushing, they all took turns talking about the sort of man they wanted to marry.
"Jess, you haven't said much," they called, to the quiet girl with the large brown eyes. "What are you looking for in a husband?"
"Well . . . " she said softly, looking down, "I think I want – a man with a good work ethic."
All of the women nodded at that.
"One who rises with the dawn each day to go to work," Jess continued, looking up at her friends. "A man who understands the value of a routine. Following a plan each day. I'll certainly help him with that."
A couple of the others frowned a bit. "I'm sure they do work from dawn to dusk, but aren't loggers known to be very independent?"
"Of course – but I'm sure my husband will appreciate the help."
Then it was Delilah's turn. She sighed and said, "I think I want a man who is – who is – "
They all leaned forward. "Yes? Who is what?"
"Who is educated."
There was a long pause. "Educated?" asked a petite red-haired girl named Sally. "Couldn't you find that in New Hampshire, of all places?"
Delilah shrugged. "I want a man who can read, yes," she said, "so that we can discuss books – I do love novels! – and discuss ideas. But the men I met in the east are so very stuffy that I don't think they've gone outside of their offices and walked on fresh grass, or through a good rainstorm, ever in their lives."
The others nodded. "I hope to find a man who likes to read, as well. But not one who never gets his hands dirty," said another of the girls.
"If we're lucky, Sawyerville will have plenty of men who can do both!" added another.
"Hmm. Well, I'm not sure they have too many books and salons out there," warned yet another.
"I brought a few novels with me," said Delilah. "And as for salons, I hope to start one once I am married and settled. You'll all come to it, won't you?"
"Of course! Of course we will!" they all cried.
"Oh, just think of it," said Delilah, getting up and pacing across the deck. "We're going to be there within days now! And then we'll all get to see for ourselves!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
At long last, on the thirtieth day of April, the forty women who had traveled by intercontinental railway stepped down from the train and took cabs to the docks of the Port of San Francisco. As they waited there inside the large terminal building, near the doorway that would lead to the steamship that would take them on the very last leg of their unimaginably long journey, they saw a group of ten young women gathered together near that same doorway.
Clara and Susannah glanced at each other. "Do you suppose – " said Susannah.
"It must be!" said Clara. Quickly they walked over to the other group. "Hello! I'm Clara Kingston, and this is my friend Susannah Hartsfield. Are you, by chance, going to Sawyerville?"
The girl nearest to them, a brunette of medium height and build, turned and smiled at them. "Why yes, we are! And you?"
"We are! And so are they!" And so the terminal building in the Port of San Francisco was treated to the sight of fifty squealing young women all greeting and getting to know each other on their way to an entirely new life.
Before long it was time to board the SS Alaska Bay, a steamship that made a regular run up the northwest coast hauling supplies and mail and passengers, and then they departed for Sawyerville with so much excitement that it seemed to be driving the ship itself.
The Alaska Bay spent two days traveling alongside the coast until it reached the mouth of the Umpqua River in Oregon. From there it was a two-day trip in the covered supply wagons towards the east and their arrival, at long last, in Sawyerville.
"Oh, I can't believe it," said Clara, nearly shaking with excitement and nervousness. "We're almost there. We're almost there!"
***
One beautiful clear morning in early May, with a fresh breeze blowing through the trees and the sun beginning to feel warm on the grass and the buttercups, Molly Strong heard a sudden rumbling, thundering sound. She looked up from sweeping the front porch of her home to see that crowds of men from the camp – apparently all of them who were not out working in the forest or on the river that day – were running up the side of the hill and coming up onto the main road of the town.
She froze, trying to shout for William, who was still inside the house. Then she saw that the men were all stampeding down the main road towards the west, heading out of town. They ran so fast and so furiously that she thought they were going to run all the way to the ocean.
Just then William ran out of the house. He had both of his pistols strapped on and carried his shotgun. "What's happened?" he said, hurrying down the front steps.
"I don't know! They just all started running up out of the camp, and then down the road!"
"All right. Stay here. Keep the other women up here with you!"
But Molly dropp
ed her broom and ran out into the road in front of the house, looking down at the main road and trying to see what on earth was happening. She could hear shouting and yelling from farther down the road to the west. Then the men seemed to stop and crowd together as though something had suddenly blocked their way.
And then came the sound of screaming – female screaming.
Molly ran down to the main road and kept going until she was nearly at the crowd of men, who were now all stopped and jammed together just past the edge of the town. The screaming came from the four covered wagons returning from a routine trip to pick up mail and supplies from the San Francisco steamships. The wagons were filled with supplies – and with women.
Molly caught hold of a tree trunk and stepped up on the high edge of the road. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. The men, who had turned into nothing short of a mob, were actually climbing up onto the wagons and trying to drag the women out. The men driving the wagons tried to push them off, but were becoming overwhelmed. Molly added her voice to the screaming but it did no good at all.
Then to her horror, a couple of the women did get pulled completely out and fell to the ground, still in the grip of the men. Molly started to run to them – and stopped at the sound of a shotgun blast. And then another.
The shouting and the screaming fell away. Two women pulled away from the men who held them in the road and climbed back into the wagon as fast as they could, where the other ones held them while they wept.
"All of you men – get back to the camp immediately," came William's voice, very loud and very clear. He sounded as he had when he'd been a cavalry officer back at Fort Lapwai in the Idaho Territory. "From this moment on, the main road is off limits to all who live in the camp. Go back to the campsite now. Now!"
